An Adventure in Curiosity
by GrimLemon
Summary: Dorian is intrigued by the looming horned figure leading a mercenary band. They drink together and things get heated. Typical smutty lemon fic, nothing special. MALE X MALE, SLASH, BDSM, EXPLICIT


**There's not enough Dorian x Bull fanfic out there! You'd think that with their ingame banter that there'd be more, but there just isn't.**  
 **So here, have a shameless, unabashedly smutty one-shot. Because why not. If you've read my other fics, you'll know I like some amount of build-up. I like to get those characters realised!**

 **I kind of skip over the whole** _ **In Your Heart Shall Burn**_ **quest to get to Skyhold (fic starts in memories of Haven). If you've played the game then you know what happened, so I don't need to tell the whole thing. I use Haven as setup for Dorian's feelings.**  
 **I also made considerable effort to work in some ingame field banter to further establish the characters. I hope it didn't turn out too...cringy, I guess?**

 **I've also never written any kind of BDSM anything before. So this is my first of this kind.**

 **Enjoy!**

Dorian Pavus had been rather curious about an individual he'd initially encountered upon entering Haven, the quaint pilgrimage in the Frostback Mountains. The large and domineering, yet refreshingly jovial (and sometimes rather ribald) Qunari mercenary definitely had a way of commanding one's attention, with his booming laugh and impressive stature. Also with his choice in "armour." Dorian had caught himself on more than one occasion openly gandering at The Iron Bull, but had not yet had the confidence to approach such a figure - which was really something, given the mage's propensity for exorbitant confidence bordering on arrogance. Something about the Qunari, however, intimidated him. Perhaps it was that famously impetuous disposition rivalling his own, or perhaps it was the realisation that if Dorian propositioned the man, the Bull would likely not refuse; and there was no telling what Dorian may be in for.

It had been yet another overcast, frozen day at the small settlement, the Breach looming threateningly over them all, when the heroic so-called "Herald of Andraste" approached the Tevinter runaway at his post across from the elven hedge mage Solas. She appeared flustered.  
"You look in great spirits today, Herald!" he quipped, feeling satisfaction at the momentary ripple of frustration over her fair elven face.  
"I'm going to get right to the point," she began - unusual, as Lavellan normally was just as much of a smartarse as Dorian himself, "I need to replace the mage in my party. As you know, I typically keep by my side Sera, Bull, and Vivienne."  
"Yes, what of it?" interjected Dorian.  
"Lately Vivienne has been driving me off the deep end, I fear. I think all of our company may know by now that Sera and I are _involved_ ," Lavellan paused, sighing, "but Vivienne is so insufferably nasty to her despite my open chagrin regarding her attitude."  
"I expect that she's being her usual disagreeable self, yes?" Dorian asked, "and Sera must be, as always, delightfully crass? Those two quite dislike each other as I see it, despite my short time here."  
"Yes, and I don't want to leave Sera here. I enjoy her company, both in private and out, no matter the disapproval of others," the Herald continued, "and Vivienne is just so, for lack of a better word, _bitchy._ "  
"She has her moments."  
"Would you join my party in the field, Dorian? You don't seem as incompatible with my consort as she."

Dorian had considered it for a moment. He didn't mind Sera, though at times she was too vulgar even for him. But although he knew that he could be just as pretentious as Vivienne, Dorian took pride in the fact that he was overconfident in a different way. A less catty way.  
"It would be my honour and privelege to accompany you on your daring journeys alongside you and your rabble of delightful cohorts!" he jested, grinning at the apparent Maker-sent hero, who consequently rolled her eyes so hard he feared they would pop out the back of her head.  
"Just say yes," she shot at him before leaving.  
"You'll give yourself a headache if you roll your eyes so hard at my unrivalled wit!" he called after her, earning a rude gesture from over her shoulder.  
 _Usually Lavellan likes to cut up with me,_ he pondered, _Vivienne must have really said something to that rogue that incensed her._ He thought then about his reasons for assent. As he had previously reasoned, he wasn't as opposed to Sera as the others. In fact, he found her uniquely hilarious. But Dorian knew that he had another big reason to accompany the Herald in her personal choice of travelling companions: The Iron Bull.

Dorian shivered a little, but not from the cold. He imagined being close to Bull, and also having the chance to witness the warrior in action. He looked across the way to Solas, who was gazing as if in a dream at that scar in the sky, clearly deep in thought, as usual. Dorian studied the man. He was attractive in a different way to Bull; a more reserved, academic way, whereas Bull represented raw power and tenacity.  
As if sensing his stare, Solas jolted, startled from his reverie. He swiveled his head toward Dorian expectantly.  
"Yes?"  
"What?"  
"Try to be a little more subtle in your staring. It's unnerving."  
"Excuse me?"  
"Is there something you wish to say?"  
Dorian cocked his head, thinking, as Solas stood almost as a statue, but somehow still relaxed despite his stillness. _He's graceful and gentle even just standing,_ mused Dorian, _such a polar opposite to the Qunari._  
"Let me get this straight, Solas," he began. The elf only blinked slowly, waiting for the question.  
"You're an apostate - neither Dalish nor city elf - who lived alone in the woods studying spirits." Not really a _question_ per sé, but something Dorian was deeply curious regarding. What did Solas see himself as?  
"Is that a problem for you?" was the clipped answer.  
 _Hmph. Abrasive as ever._  
"No, no," shot Dorian, "you're a special and unique snowflake. Live the dream!"  
He could have sworn that Solas almost glared before turning away to again stare upward. No, Solas was definitely not for him. The elven enigma had talent, and intelligence, but what was it that Sera had said when Dorian spoke to her about their comrades? _"His head's crammed up a thousand years ago."_ Dorian snorted, earning an almost imperceptible peripheral glance from the apostate.

That had been Dorian's final interaction in Haven.

Dorian placed his book on the table next to him. He rose from the chair to peer out of the window behind it. Sighing, he gazed out at the snowcapped mountains surrounding the Inquisition's newfound stronghold. He thought it a rather ironic coincidence that his final normal interaction in Haven before the avalanche had been with Solas, who had inexplicably led them to Skyhold. _Why hadn't that damned egghead led us here sooner?_ he thought bitterly. _Haven could have been spared._  
He turned, eyeing the warm light emanating from the painted room in which Solas studied. He meandered over to lean against the balustrade, and peered down into the circular room. Solas was sitting at the small desk, books piled around him, sipping the tea he apparently so detested. _"Then why do you drink the stuff?"_ Dorian had one day asked downward from his own book-covered haunt. A non-committal slight shrug had been the response. _Hopeless,_ he had thought, and from that day gave up on reaching out to the aloof recluse. He then only admired from afar, as he did now, and retreated from any interactions with the scholar. _A pity,_ he thought for the umpteenth time, _I feel as though he and I could have a lot to discuss and share._

Straightening, Dorian glanced back at his book and chair. Though he didn't feel the desire to keep reading, he hadn't really been absorbing the words anyway. He stretched, and started down the stairs, something he rarely did as it took him right through Solas' territory. He didn't know what he wanted to do except leave the confines of the tower for a short while. Perhaps he could wander the battlements, or watch the Inquisitor frantically running to and fro as she dealt with the pressures of organising a newly-found base. It was a truly majestic location, and no one knew how or why it had been abandoned. But it was being used now, and that was the important thing.  
Dorian let his feet lead him, not really thinking about exactly where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do. He found himself stopped outside the door to the tavern. The scout leader Harding glanced at him inquisitively as he lingered indecisively. He knew why his instincts had brought him here; who frequented the building most. Sera, Cole, and of course, The Iron Bull. He gulped and opened the door, feeling as though the entire keep could hear his thudding heart.

Dorian made a beeline for the bar. In his peripheral vision he could see Iron Bull's sprawled form just beyond the stairs. Ignoring the whirlwind of emotions battling throughout his body, he sat. He ordered a pint of Sun Blonde Vint-1 and as he raised the beverage to his lips, a hefty weight plonked itself firmly onto the stool beside him.  
"Maraas-lok," rumbled the deep voice and Cabot slid a tankard of a noxious-smelling substance toward the Qunari beside Dorian.  
"So Sun Blonde, huh?," Bull asked, bemused, "looking to not remember the night?"  
"I suppose not," replied Dorian, before drinking deeply.  
"Slow down there Vint, you'll hurt yourself!" laughed the mercenary before swigging his own drink of choice.  
"I like it rough," drawled Dorian, already affected by the heavy drink. Iron Bull roared with laughter at the bluntness.  
"Is that so, mage?" he teased.

Dorian appraised his companion with calculating eyes. _Is this a good idea?_ He quaffed the remainder of the pungent spirit and ordered another. All the while, the Bull observed with watchful eyes as Dorian's demeanor regressed further. The sun was rapidly setting as the two continued to imbibe, Dorian on his third drink and the Bull on his fourth. Dorian sat up straighter on his stool.  
"No Qunari would accept a Tevinter mage so easily. Unless it was a ruse," he stated, slurring his words as he surveyed his drinking partner, "when should I expect a knife in the back?" Iron Bull was almost speechless. Almost.  
"You ever use that fancy magic of yours to burn down a dormitory full of kids?"  
"Err," Dorian stuttered. "Not today." Bull chuckled.  
"Then I wouldn't worry," he assured, "lots of other people need a knife in the back first." Dorian stared down into the half-empty tankard. Then glared up at the man beside him.  
"Quite the stink-eye you've got going, Dorian."  
"You sit there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest!" Dorian snapped. _Why am I so angry?_ he asked himself.  
"That's right," sneered the Bull, locking eyes with the mage, "these big muscled hands could tear those robes off while you struggled, helpless in my grip." Bull seemed to find delight in the momentary speechlessness of the Tevinter mage; a rare occurence. So he continued, "I'd pin you down, and as you gripped my horns, I. _Would_. Conquer. You." Dorian shook himself out of the fantasies these remarks conjured, summoning every fibre of restraint in him to combat the erection threatening to surface. _Vishante kaffas._  
"Uh. What?" he almost squeaked.  
"Oh, is that not where we're going?" Bull smugly asked.  
"No. It was very much not." _Shit._

After some silence punctuated by Maryden's singing behind them and the sliding of tankards on the polished wooden counter, The Iron Bull piped up.  
"I'm just saying, Dorian," he began, as the mage leaned on his folded arms on the wood, still gripping another almost-empty tankard in one hand, "you have this picture of the Qunari in your mind." Dorian's eyes opened to peer up at the horned combatant. Like you see us as this forbidden, terrible thing, and you're inclined to do the forbidden-"  
"I have no idea what you're talking about!" protested Dorian, sitting back up on his stool, swaying backward. A large hand braced his back to stop the tumble.  
"All I'm saying is, you ever want to explore that, my door's open." Bull grinned.  
"You are impossible," Dorian huffed, "This is-" he grumbled, leaning back onto the counter, feeling the other man's hand stay on his back and settle in the small.  
"Good," growled Bull in an animalistic low voice that made Dorian's insides stir, "I like that energy!" laughed the Qunari. "Stoke those fires, big guy." The large hand on the small of Dorian's back slid over to his waist and squeezed.  
"Don't patronise me!" Dorian leapt up, incensed, both by the mocking tone of a boyish pet name, and by his own uncertainty and desire. He leaned into Iron Bull's face. "You're so self-assured! You're nothing but a, but a -" he waved his drink above his head, the remaining alcohol splashing out. "You're a brute! I would never!" he shouted, suddenly loathing everything about both himself and the Qunari with his damned gorgeous face painted with a goofy confused grin. _He's smirking at me! The gall!_ thought Dorian, completely and utterly intoxicated, forgetting himself and his surroundings. The Iron Bull only burst into gaffaws, which only engraged the Tevinter further.

Dorian slammed the now empty tankard onto the bartop, earning an indignant "Hey!" from Cabot, who he glowered at. Dorian snapped his head back toward the Bull, who was studying him intently, seemingly waiting. Even though Dorian was standing and The Iron Bull was sitting, they were eye-to-eye. _Vishante kaffas!_ Dorian thought to himself for the second time that night.  
He decided then and there that he'd had enough, and lunged forward to sloppily kiss his comrade full on the lips. Bull seemed completely unsurprised by this, reacting with no hesitation, which frustrated Dorian, who in a state of further impulsiveness shoved his tongue into Iron Bull's mouth. That seemed to shock the Qunari slightly, which pleased Dorian. They kissed for a time; when the drawn-out scene was complete, Dorian was startled to see Cabot and Maryden staring at the two. Even Krem had leaned around the stairs to see what had shut his boss up, and even his mouth was slightly open in astonishment.  
"Well, that was both expected _and_ unexpected," bellowed Bull as he laughed that resonant, thunderous laugh of his. Dorian was taken aback with himself and before anyone could stop him, quickly walked straight out of the tavern, meaning to climb the stairs beside it onto the battlements for fresh air. Though as he got halfway up the first set, he was forced to sit, clutching his head. The dizziness overcame him and he felt himself slip into drunken unconsciousness.

Dorian dreamed of a looming horned figure taking him upon the battlements. It was a good dream, one he was unhappy to wake from. He awoke in a soft, warm place. A bed, but not his own. He peered around groggily, at what appeared to be one of the unused tower bedrooms along the walls of Skyhold.  
The door swung inward and The Iron Bull emerged, carrying a tray of food. He beamed at Dorian.  
"Oh hey, you're awake! I found you on the stairs passed out," he chided, sitting on the side of the bed, "what were _you_ dreaming about, hrmm?" he asked. Dorian blushed deeply. Bull roared with laughter as he so often did, "whatever it was it had you all worked up, that's for sure! Eat," he added, pushing the tray toward Dorian, before helping himself to bread slathered with jam. Dorian gingerly grasped a piece of peeled orange, suddenly ravenously hungry.  
He was still so dizzy, however, nursing a ripper of a hangover, that he couldn't seem to hold onto the piece of fruit without shaking so much he'd drop it each time.  
"Here, let me help," Bull said, shifting on the bed so that he was facing Dorian, and moved the tray between them. "You had a lot to drink," he stated, "like, a _lot_. I'm surprised you're able to sit up!" he chortled, picking up a piece of the orange, moving it toward Dorian's face. "I washed my hands," he said, chuckling again as Dorian wrinkled his nose.  
"Thank you," the mage mumbled after eating the fruit. "Did we-"  
"What? Do anything?"  
Dorian nodded.  
"No, we didn't. Unless you count that excellent kiss you gave me." Bull winked. "But no, I didn't take advantage of you."  
Dorian felt a sense of relief. _If he and I...I'd want to remember it._  
"Why, did you want to?" Iron Bull questioned, half joking, half not, before laughing some more as Dorian reddened. "Here, keep eating. Something in your stomach will soak up all that shit you drank." He offered a slice of bread with jam, and ate another slice himself with his other hand.  
They sat in silence, odd for either of them, observing each other; Bull feeding a woozy Dorian, Dorian watching and admiring The Bull. _He's always so jovial. And he's showing a gentility that I never imagined from him,_ Dorian pondered as he chewed another piece of orange that had been fed to him.

" _Do_ you want to?" asked Bull, all of a sudden. Dorian perked up.  
"I-I, well-" he stuttered. He stuttered? _I_ never _stutter!_ He was so surprised at that, that he hardly noticed Iron Bull placing the tray onto the bedside table. He did, however, notice when the Qunari scooted closer and held Dorian's head between his large, callused hands. Pale amber eyes met one light green, before scarred lips pressed against full ones. The kiss was gentle, far more gentle than Dorian expected.  
"I like you, even for a Vint," Bull flattered, after pulling away. "But riding The Bull is not for the faint of heart." He gave a roguish wink before standing, taking the tray, and leaving the room. Dorian sat, somewhat stunned and rather dejected at Bull's departure. Now with no distractions, he could focus his mana properly to rid himself of this gods-forsaken hangover. Admittedly, he could have easily done so _before_ The Iron Bull decided to hand feed him, but he had enjoyed that too much to stop it. Having healed himself of the dizziness and headache, and considerable nausea, he rose from the bed, in time for Bull to barge his way back into the room.

Dorian held no qualms this time, and with no alcohol fogging his mind. He strode forward, placing his hands on Bull's exposed chest. The door slammed shut as the large man was forcefully shoved against it, even though Dorian knew as well as anyone that no mere human could ever push the Qunari around if he decided to resist.  
"I'm not faint of heart in the slightest, my friend," Dorian declared, reaching up to grasp the Bull by the horns. "And yes, I _do_ want to," he growled, pulling his quarry's head toward his own. Their lips crashed together with heated fervour. Dorian gasped as Bull effortlessly lifted him and pivoted, pressing the human against the cool wooden door. Dorian wrapped his legs around the other man's waist, though only his toes touched on the other side of the man's bulky torso. Bull's tongue pressed against his and he groaned, this time doing nothing to suppress his excitement.  
Dorian was most disappointed when Bull stopped and lowered him, letting him stand as the Qunari braced himself against the door, his arms on either side of Dorian's head.  
"I mean it when I say I'm rough," The Bull said, matter-of-factly, "if you really want this, I need you to give me a safe word." Dorian gazed up at him, understanding.  
"Inquisitor," he said, grinning happily, and earning a hearty cackle from Iron Bull.  
"Inquisitor! That's a new one," he guffawed as he straightened. His eye met Dorian's. "If you're overwhelmed, or uncomfortable, use it. I'll stop immediately," he proclaimed, a seriousness in his tone that Dorian hadn't heard before, and the altus nodded. "That being said, unless you use your safe word, you're _mine_ this morning. You do what I say, and if you don't, you'll be punished," explained The Iron Bull. The larger man then reached for the keys to the room, locking the door behind Dorian, then walking across the room to lock the other. "So no one interrupts," he smiled back at the waiting Tevinter.

The Iron Bull sauntered back over to his new conquest, who he picked back up with ease. Dorian yelped in surprise as he was pressed roughly onto the bed, which earned him a hard spank.  
"I didn't tell you to make any noise, Dorian," growled Bull, "roll over." Dorian obeyed, rolling onto his back and biting back moans as Bull began to remove his robes - torturously slowly and smirking all the while. A groan almost escaped as his partner's hand brushed against his aching cock while removing the robing. Dorian turned scarlet as Bull appraised his body with an animalistic expression. Bull's eye softened, "heh, your blush spreads down your neck and onto your shoulders," he leaned back to begin stripping himself, "it's damn cute." Dorian only blushed harder, biting his lip. _Why am I so bashful today?_ he asked himself, puzzled at his own behaviour, _aren't I known for my flamboyantly overconfident disposition?_ He didn't have time to continue thinking about it, as Iron Bull removed his smallclothes. Dorian's eyes couldn't help but widen. _How is_ that _supposed to fit inside of_ me? "On your knees," boomed Bull's sonorous voice.

Dorian did so, and was confronted with a huge, swollen member. "Suck," was the command, and he felt a large hand against the back of his head, nudging him forward. He licked his lips and ran his tongue from the base to the tip, hearing Bull hum in approval. Dorian peered upward as he wrapped his mouth around the head and began to suck, swirling his tongue at the tip while doing so. One hand grasped the huge cock and squeezed gently as he pushed his mouth further down. His other hand moved toward his own hardness which was throbbing and leaking precum. Bull grumbled and thrust forward sharply, making Dorian choke, his eyes watering. "Only _I_ will touch you," the Qunari demanded, scowling down at him. The hand behind his head pressed harder, forcing Dorian to deepthroat. He squeezed his eyes shut, saliva dripping from the point of contact, and Iron Bull began thrusting, softly this time, his breathing becoming ragged.

Hands gripped Dorian's shoulders, pushing him backward. Bull leaned down and their lips again smashed together, tongues meeting and rolling around each other. Both were panting heavily when they parted. "Turn around and get on your elbows and knees." Dorian gulped, staring into Bull's eye. " _Now!_ " The human acquiesced, but recieved a hard slap to each buttock for his hesitance. He cried out, biting his lip immediately afterward, expecting the following spank. He then heard a rattle and turned his head to see The Iron Bull take a small bottle out of the drawer of the bedside table.  
Bull smeared oil onto his fingers. "You sure about this? Now's the chance to forget and put it behind us if you want," he offered.  
"I haven't used the safe word, have I?" Dorian replied.  
Bull hummed happily and Dorian inhaled sharply as a large finger entered into him. Every fibre of his being wanted this to hurry up, he wanted that massive cock inside him _now._ As if sensing the eagerness and impatience, Bull was teasingly slow in preparing the chocolate-haired Tevinter.

Dorian whined when the fingers were withdrawn, and was given another spank, though this was more playful than the previous. He had to bite his fist to keep from groaning or crying out when Bull's head entered him. The Qunari pushed forward slowly, applying more oil as needed and leaning further and further over Dorian. He stilled when fully sheathed, listening to Dorian's ragged and broken breathing.  
"You okay?"  
"B-big."  
Bull moved his hips forward, his mouth close to Dorian's ear.  
"Moan for me, _Dorian_ ," came a hoarse whisper.  
"Gah-aaahh!" Dorian moaned loudly, letting out his pent-up desire as Bull snapped his hips at a downward angle, hitting that sweet spot dead-on.

The room was filled with groaning, panting, and the erotic sounds of flesh on flesh for a lot longer than the mage was used to. Dorian's hands gripped the sheets so tightly he thought he may tear them, but he cared little when he was filled so completely by an engorged Qunari cock.  
"A-ah! Bull!" he cried, his eyes squeezed shut as the man _did_ conquer him as promised.  
A muscled arm encircled his waist as his knees started to become weak. He felt a warm hand grasp and stroke him as both men neared climax. Dorian could only whimper, his muscles tensing almost unbearably as he released, his eyes half open, his breathing heavier than ever. Bull's thrusts became erratic and Dorian's eyes widened as he felt load after huge load pump into him, the warrior's cock pulsating deliciously as he groaned Dorian's name.

Dorian collapsed onto the bed, only to be tenderly lifted and placed higher up. The Iron Bull flopped down beside him. Both wordlessly moved to embrace each other, Dorian curling up in the arms of his now-lover.

They awoke in the evening to pounding on the door to the left of the bed.  
"I got it," grumbled Bull, rising much to the protest of a still-sleepy Dorian.  
Dorian watched as he opened the door a crack, standing stark naked behind it. He took the chance to admire Iron Bull from the back as Inquisitor Lavellan's voice reached him.  
" _There_ you are! I've needed to go out on a mission and I'm missing two of my party! Where have you been?"  
"Right here, boss," laughed Bull.  
"I'm guessing you probably know where Dorian is, judging by your, uh, lack of clothing," came the elf's disgruntled, yet slightly entertained intone.  
"Yeah, he had a long day. You have other companions, ya know, boss? Take beardy and egghead or something," he said before closing the door and turning to Dorian. "Just can't get rid of her, huh?"  
"I hadn't realised we had been in here all day," said Dorian as Bull walked back to the bed, "what _ever_ will people think?"  
"Enjoying the view?" jested Bull, grinning, "if anyone has anything to say they can eat shit. Besides, it's not like we're _together_ or anything."  
That last remark did make Dorian's heart sink some. He'd realised pretty quickly before their little tryst that he had deeper feelings than simple lust toward his companion. _Can't be helped, I suppose,_ he thought sadly, _Qunari aren't really given to sex for more than just fun, after all._ He sat up and stretched.  
"We should probably find some food, yes?" he suggested to divert his thoughts. Iron Bull laughed and nodded his agreement.  
"I'm starving. Some _activities_ leave people pretty hungry."

The two dressed themselves, unlocked the doors, and parted ways to seek out some dinner. And that was the end of that.

-

 **I guess that's it, huh. I love this pairing so much. I wish there was more fan material on it!**

 **Open to critiques and suggestions and whatnot. Also, let me know if I messed up with the BDSM in any way. It's not something I'm all that familiar with.**

 **If this fic gets enough positive feedback I** _ **might**_ **(wink wink) consider adding a second chapter, likely Dorian researching and then finding and presenting the amulet to Bull. You know the one. ;)**

 **Toodles!**

 **~ Grim**


End file.
